Im Yong Soo goes to Hell
by putain de merde
Summary: Once upon a time, Im Yong Soo went to Hell. Then he met the man of his dreams.


"Wow. Burning in Hell. This day just could not get any worse."  
Or so thought Im Yong Soo, chained by his hands and feet to a rock in the depths of Hell. But he could not have been more wrong.  
Now, I bet you're wondering how the poor man managed to get himself in this unfavourable situation.  
Well, it all started with his best frenemy, Alfred Fucking Jones.  
That, of course, wasn't his real name. They just called him that because he refused to tell anyone his actual middle name. Besides, it fit. Boy, did it ever fit.  
Alfred was pretty obnoxious. That's why Yong Soo wasn't really his friend. Just his frenemy. Because sometimes Alfred was really, really hard not to hate. And sometimes Alfred was really, really loud, and Yong Soo found it hard to associate with him when he was screaming things like "MCDONALD'S FOR THE WIN" and "HILLARY CLINTON CAN SUCK MY DICK". Mainly because Yong Soo did not endorse either of those views. Personally, he preferred Korean BBQ to McDonald's. Actually, he preferred most food to McDonald's. He didn't much like McDonald's. Too greasy and dry and bland and altogether gross. And as for Hillary Clinton — well, he'd take a soggy Cheeto for president over Donald Trump.  
So he didn't like to consider himself _""""friends""""_ with Mr. Alfred F. Jones. They barely ever spent any time alone anyway, since their friends were friends and the only time they usually spent together was with a group of ten other people. Yong Soo referred to him as either an "acquaintance" or a "frenemy". It was hard to associate with him. He was loud, he was obnoxious, he was a jerk. But only sometimes. The other half of the time he was actually decent.  
 _Anyway,_ since we've gotta hurry this story up so we can get back to rescue Yong Soo from eternal damnation, let's move on to what actually happened.  
It was a really hot, 43-degrees-Centigrade type of day in August. Perfect time to go check out the festival, right? Right?  
Yong Soo didn't really want to go, as it was just so hot and he was really tired (plus it was music video season), but everyone kept insisting until he eventually gave in.  
"Fine," he said, "I'll go to your dumbass festival. But you have to buy me some of those tasty little donuts they have, I love those."  
His friends agreed. And so he left his house for the first time in a week to go down to a festival by the waterside, _in full sunlight,_ with fifteen other guys, one of which would be Alfred, his sworn frenemy.  
It only took about three seconds for Yong Soo to realize that this had been a bad idea. It was so hot and there weren't any of those tasty little donuts in sight. Plus, he was the only non-white guy in the whole group. Not a good sign. He would probably be the target of a few racist jokes today.  
Even worse, there was a really shitty rock band onstage screaming and trying to make sounds that sounded vaguely in tune. Yong Soo even liked rock music, but this band was absolute _shit._  
"Yong Soooooooooo!" yelled a familiar voice from _right next to him._  
"Alfred," grumbled Yong Soo. Jesus. He was so _loud._  
Alfred clapped him on the back with the strength of a tank, knocking the air right out of him. "Long time no see!"  
Yong Soo coughed, trying to regain himself. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure his spine had just been reshaped. "Yes," he answered breathlessly.  
Alfred proceeded to give him a very violent noogie, which was okay because for once Yong Soo hadn't spent half an hour doing his hair. But it was also not okay because Yong Soo didn't like being roughhoused around.  
The other guys laughed at their antics, until Alfred playfully punched Yong Soo in the ear and he made a loud choking noise.  
"All right, I think that's enough," said Matthew, Alfred's much more pleasant brother.  
Alfred quickly backed off, finally letting Yong Soo fall to the ground to try and catch his breath.  
Everyone waited until Yong Soo was okay again and managed to get to his feet, then they set off to check out the food.  
After looking at every single one of the food vendors, Yong Soo still didn't have his donuts and everyone else had something they were scarfing down as if it were the most delicious thing they'd ever tasted. "Hey, try this!" they told each other, or "Hey, don't eat that! It's mine!"  
Yong Soo tried some kind of deep-fried potato thing that was actually okay, along with something he _thought_ was meat, but he wasn't sure. It wasn't very good, anyway.  
There were lots of laughs and lots of fresh new shirt stains (Alfred dropped an entire hot dog on his shirt and smeared ketchup, mustard, and relish all over it. It was disgusting.) Matthew shoved ten deep-fried onion blossoms in his mouth and ate them all in twenty-three seconds. Also disgusting.  
Yong Soo liked to savour his food, which was why he hadn't gotten anything yet. Because most of it looked really, really gross. His friends weren't nearly as picky about food as he was.  
"Hey, Yong Soooooo! Why aren't you eatin' anything?" Alfred yelled in his ear. Yong Soo winced at the horrible mutilation of his given name and mumbled some excuse about not being hungry. Alfred was just about to reply when the band onstage (not a shitty rock band, thank God) began to play.  
"Hey, this is good!" Yong Soo exclaimed, surprised. The others nodded, equally surprised.  
"Let's check 'em out," Alfred said, winking at Yong Soo. "If you know what I mean."  
Yong Soo did not, in fact, know what he meant, and was reluctant to follow them as they traveled towards the front of the stage. He was sure it didn't mean anything he wanted to know about.  
It was an all-female band. Yong Soo felt a sinking feeling in his stomach about what Alfred had said. The lead singer was quite pretty, he noticed, and that kind of scared him. He didn't want Alfred to do anything stupid, because he'd probably drag him into it.  
Yong Soo stopped walking, followed by most of the rest of the group. Alfred, however, didn't.  
"Bro, where're you going?" Matthew called. Alfred didn't reply. He went up to the front of the stage and leaned against it, looking at the singer dreamily. She wisely ignored him, as any attention she would have given to him would just have made him more powerful.  
Yong Soo drifted to the back of the group, ready to bolt in case Alfred did something horrible, but still close enough to see.  
Unfortunately, he was completely unprepared for what Alfred did.  
Alfred looked at the girl, then looked at her ankles, so close to him. And he did the unthinkable.  
He grabbed her ankle with his teeth and dragged her off the stage.  
Yong Soo, like pretty much everyone else in the immediate vicinity, gasped loudly. This would have been a great time to run, but, unfortunately, he was rooted to the spot. His legs wouldn't move. He couldn't even look away from the gruesome scene. Alfred was in the midst of devouring the girl alive as she kicked and screamed, trying desperately to get away from him.  
Yong Soo just stared uselessly, unable to move, unable to look away. The others did more or less the same. Some had their phones out, calling the emergency services. But most were just frozen.  
Then Alfred looked up from the girl. Straight at Yong Soo. He looked the same as always — all-American blue eyes, freckle-spattered cheeks, slightly tanned skin, dorky glasses. Except that he was covered in dark blood.  
Alfred smiled that huge toothy smile of his. But with his mouth dripping blood, his teeth stained red, it looked less like a cheerful smile and more like a crazed smile. Yong Soo inhaled sharply. This was bad. Really bad.  
Alfred snapped his teeth at Yong Soo, winked, and went back to his meal. Oh, no, what did this mean? Did it mean that _Yong Soo_ was to be the next target? Or what?  
Before he had too much time to worry about it, however, the ground opened up beneath him.  
"Shit," he muttered, just as he began his long, long, _long_ tumble into the depths of Hell.  
Actually, he didn't even know he was going to Hell for the majority of his tumble, at least until he passed the scorched wooden sign that read "HELL" in blood-red letters.  
And during this tumble, Yong Soo received exactly 43 text messages (most of which were from his mother), pleasantly surprised to find that his phone still worked, even on the way to Hell.  
That was, however, before he smashed his head off a nearby rock and knocked himself out cold.


End file.
